


Taking a Chance On Love

by RileyC



Category: Oz - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:38:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is an undercover cop working in Atlantic City, Toby is there to meet with a client and get plastered. Fate, as usual, intervenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking a Chance On Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luci_2](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Luci_2).



"One"

 

Trying not to fidget, or look at his watch more than once every ten seconds, Tobias Beecher sat up straight as his date walked into the 12th Street Diner.

His date, Chris Keller.

How the hell had that happened?

Oh, yes, that was part of it, Toby remembered as he watched Chris cross the room, sexy confidence radiated in every move. Toby wasn't the only one gazing in admiration, either, and the flash of jealousy that surged through him was a powerful shock.

Toby guessed he couldn't blame all those greedy-eyed voyeurs. Tall, dark, and handsome barely did Chris justice. He was those things, but it was the mystery going on behind that cocky grin, hinted at in those deep blue eyes, that made him more than just good looking. The package it all came wrapped in was a really great bonus, though, and Toby adjusted his glasses, face burning as those eyes assessed him in turn, a slow wink letting Toby know he'd been caught ogling.

Well, there was a lot to ogle. Faded jeans, fraying at the left knee, fit like a second skin, while a black Henley, buttons undone, strained across an astonishing chest. Scuffed boots and a black leather jacket completed the ensemble - which had probably all just been grabbed from the closet without a second thought. No, no half an hour's dithering in front of the mirror for Chris Keller. Must be good to be that comfortable in your own skin, Toby thought, envying that self-confident poise.

"So…" Toby looked up at him, standing there. "You came."

"Said I would." A flash of white teeth, dimples showing up, Chris sat down, sliding along the banquette just near enough for Toby to be incredibly aware of him; to smell the leather of his coat, a lingering trace of soap and aftershave. Head tilted slightly, some of that self-assurance dimming with a trace of uncertainty, he asked, "You having second thoughts?"

"It's just…" Toby plucked a napkin from the holder on the table, nervous fingers proceeding to shred it. "I've never done this before," he mumbled in the direction of the shiny Formica.

"You don't have to do anything now, Toby," Chris said, and Toby flashed a quick look at him, torn between liking the way Chris said his name and being surprised at the faint note of disappointment in his voice. Somehow he hadn't thought this could possibly be as momentous an event for Chris as it was for him. Maybe he'd been wrong about that.

"Don't I?" he asked softly.

"Not if it's out of some cockeyed sense of obligation."

"Obligation's why I looked you up; it's not why I asked you out." A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I do owe you my life."

Broad shoulders lifted in a diffident shrug, and Chris was the one staring at the table now. "You'd have been okay - and we're more than even on that score."

"I'm not so sure of that, Chris. Some things go way beyond quid pro quo. I was … in a bad place. A place I would have kept going back to until I'd lost everything." And not just metaphorically, he thought, flashing back to that dark Atlantic City alley, a trio of goons beating the crap out of him until Chris - previously known as Giancarlo, the blackjack dealer - had shown up.

Chris turned to look at him, thoughtful, wary, but with a glimmer of hope in those eyes. "And now you're not?"

Daring everything, Toby reached over to lay his hand atop Chris' on the table, squeezing. "No. No, I think I'm getting to a really good place," he said, a shivery tingle shooting through him as Chris turned his hand to clasp Toby's, long fingers stroking his palm. "You were my wake up call, Chris."

The waitress _aheming_ to get their attention was an unwelcome interruption, and Toby found himself so annoyed with the look of disapproval in her eyes that he was sorely tempted to defiantly plant a kiss on Chris right then and there.

As if sensing that, Chris leaned close, whispered, "It's not worth it, babe," and told the waitress they'd have coffee.

"I wasn't going to cause a scene," Toby said, feeling a bit petulant.

Chris gave him a doubtful stare. "No, of course you weren't."

Given how they had met, Toby supposed he couldn't blame him for being skeptical. "I'm not drunk now."

Chris nodded. "Glad to hear it."

"I'd had a bad week."

"So you said."

Toby sighed. "Do you really want a coffee right now?"

Giving him an interested look, Chris said, "I can wait. What's on your mind?"

"Let's go for a walk," Toby said.

~*~

 

He had gone to Atlantic City, to the Luck Be a Lady casino, to take care of some business for Mr. Paul Rich, one of the firm's more recent clients. What Toby hadn't known, what no one in the firm had prior knowledge of as they had fervently assured the FBI, was that Mr. Rich had started life as Paolo Ricci, back in Salerno, and that he and his casino were the subject of an undercover operation by the FBI.

Toby doubted that information would have made a difference.

The place he'd been in right then - served with divorce papers and ordered by a judge to go to rehab or risk losing any parental rights - nothing much had registered. Taking care of Mr. Rich's business had, thankfully, consisted of nothing more sinister than drawing up a new will. At the time Toby hadn't given that a second thought. Later on he'd wondered if Mr. Rich may have had a certain presentiment of things to come, but as he'd told Agent Taylor that wasn't based on anything substantial.

Drowning his own sorrows had been vastly more important, after all, and as soon as business was concluded Toby had hit the booze and the blackjack tables, losing badly to the sexy, blue-eyed dealer who called himself Giancarlo; drunkenly proclaiming the game was rigged; and generally carrying on in a manner he was thankful not to remember in crystal clear detail. The fuzzy around the edges flashes that came back to him were sufficiently mortifying.

The capper to it all had been starting a fight, and getting his ass tossed out -- and, thus, to that scene in the alleyway.

"You risked a lot saving my ass," he said, as he walked beside Chris.

Chris replied with another shrug that denied it had been any big deal. "I knew I could smooth it out."

Toby wondered about that. Things had gotten blurry and confused in that alley, and the first really clear recollection he had was of waking up in an unfamiliar bed, bleary gaze drawn to a neon sign glowing red and alluring through the window, advertising booze. Pulling away from that siren call, sounds had begun to register, voices pitched low and angry somewhere nearby. He had stumbled out of bed, stubbing his toe twice as he tripped toward the door and opened it to find Chris - still Giancarlo to him then - engaged in an intense discussion with a man later introduced as Special Agent Pierce Taylor.

Brain too fuddled with alcohol and pain, Toby hadn't followed the argument too closely, but had gathered his presence in Giancarlo's apartment was really pissing off the other man.

"How is Agent Taylor these days?"

Chris smiled. "Getting up somebody else's ass, I imagine."

"Figuratively speaking, I hope. He never sent me the dry-cleaning bill." Throwing up all over Taylor was, unfortunately, one of the really, really vivid memories he had retained.

Chris laughed. "At least it got him out of our hair."

"There is that." He sighed, shoulders hunched up against the brisk, autumn air, the breeze scattering dry leaves along the sidewalk as they crossed over to the park. "Why did you do it, Chris?"

A warm hand at the small of Toby's back, Chris asked, "What?"

"Help me."

"You looked like you were drowning."

He had been, for years, but no one else had ever seemed to notice much less offer a helping hand. "Lot of people would have walked on by."

"Not someone who'd ever been in the same place."

Toby canted a curious look at him, remembering those secrets he'd sensed Chris was keeping. "You have?"

Stopping at a bench, Chris swept it clear of leaves and sat down. "Got my share of passing acquaintance, yeah," he said, an air of guarded weariness settling around him. "I'm no Boy Scout, Toby."

"Didn't think you were," Toby said, sitting beside him, skewing around to face him.

"Not a hero, either."

"Umm," Toby shook his head, "there I'll beg to differ."

Reaching out, Chris touched Toby's coat, straightening the lapel, turning up the collar against the chill, a look of solemn introspection on his face. "Might've had an ulterior motive."

"I'm hoping so."

Chris laughed again, blew out a breath. "Christ," he murmured, "you could be my biggest mistake…"

=========

"Two"

 

He'd made plenty of them. Up to now he'd always managed to land on his feet. This thing with Toby, though - if he screwed this up, Chris had a feeling he'd be a long time getting over it.

It wasn't even supposed to happen. He didn't know why it had.

Months spent building up Giancarlo, insinuating himself into the Ricci organization, Taylor on his ass every step of the way, and all it had taken was looking into a pair of hazy blue eyes to make him risk throwing the whole operation under a bus.

The guy had just looked so damn lost. A lot of people did when they showed up at his table. Chris hadn't jumped to the rescue for any of them. None of them had been bleeding from quite so many open wounds, though, and trying so goddamn hard not to let it show.

It had been like looking in a funhouse mirror, long-buried memories slamming to the forefront. Chris had been in that same place. Different side of the tracks maybe, but that was the only difference between them - that, and how someone had tossed Chris a lifeline. Without that… He shook his head, seeing clear as anything, the paths he might have walked, all of them a fast track to darkness.

Father O'Toole had saved his life, and all he'd asked in return was that, if chance ever presented the occasion, Chris pay it forward and reach a hand out to someone else in need.

Now all Chris could do was hope this wouldn't be an example of no good deed going unpunished.

Toby was looking at him, the corners of his mouth turned down. "I'm a mistake?"

Chris smiled, traced a finger along Toby's chin. "I hope not."

"You're not exactly being reassuring, Chris. If you're having second thoughts--"

"I'm not." Not about wanting this, wanting him. That truth had hit him quick, about the time he'd dumped Toby on his bed and the guy had smiled up at him with this dopey look, like he thought Chris was some kind of angel who'd swooped down to save him.

An angel with broken wings and a badly tarnished halo, maybe - but Chris couldn't deny that Toby placing that much trust in him felt good.

Frowning, he said, "Maybe you should have second thoughts about me."

Toby reached over, resting a hand on Chris' shoulder, palm sliding over until warm fingers were curved against his neck. Closing his eyes to savor that touch, Chris wondered if he really could turn and walk away from this.

"I've had second thoughts, Chris, and third…" Toby huffed out a breath, shook his head in frustration. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to … to dangle a carrot and then snatch it away the instant I reach for it. You," he poked Chris in the chest, "started this the moment you told me you weren't Giancarlo."

Yeah, that was true enough. "I…" He shrugged. "I wanted you to know…"

~*~

 

Taylor had gone, his fit of pique lingering in the air like a fart. Ordinarily Chris would have found it difficult to shake off the residual tension. His standard method would have been to go find a bar, find someone to hook up with, and fuck the night away to everyone's mutual satisfaction, no strings attached in the morning.

He couldn't very well leave Toby by himself, not in that condition - and the really amazing thing was, as Chris had taken care of him, all that left over frustration had vanished. Getting Toby out of his rumpled clothes and cleaning him up, tucking him back into bed, had soothed it all away. If Taylor had barged back in that point, growling and blustering and threatening to take his badge, Chris believed it all would have washed over him like a balmy breeze because he had something so much more important to focus on.

He thought he could even pinpoint the exact moment "it" had happened: When Toby had awoken in the middle of the night, making grumbly, puzzled noises as he fought with the blankets and finally sat up to fix Chris with an unfocused gaze. "Giancarlo?" Toby'd said, sounding a little scared, a lot lost.

"My name's Chris."

"What?"

"I'm Chris," he'd said, coming over to sit on the edge of the sagging, lumpy mattress. "Chris Keller."

Still fuzzy, Toby had settled back against the pillows, looking trustingly up at him. "Oh. Okay," he'd murmured, eyes drifting shut again just as if everything had made sense.

The funny thing was, it kind of had.

Chris had thought he had it all figured out. His purpose in life was to wear that badge he'd worked so hard for, and go catch the bad guys. Sometimes he'd even had the crazy thought that, by doing that, he was atoning for things he'd done in another life. He'd kept that to himself. He'd kept a lot to himself. Like how he did love his job, but sometimes he wished there was more. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like if there were some strings attached; someone who'd be there in the morning, every morning, every night.

He'd just figured that wasn't meant for him, wasn't in the cards for him. Until Tobias Beecher came along.

Why this one? he'd wondered that night, stretching out beside him on the bed, and thinking he'd love to spend his life figuring that out…

~*~

 

"I wanted you to know my name," he said. "I wanted you to know who I really was."

"Even if it compromised you?"

Chris shrugged. "Kinda became a moot point, wouldn't you say?"

Toby's face scrunched with an ironic look. "Yes, I'm sure Mr. Rich would be gratified to know he'd made it possible for us to be together."

"Hey, I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth." Easy to say now. Things hadn't looked quite that simple that next morning. Where Toby was concerned, he had a feeling nothing ever would be. Might be one hell of a ride on the merry-go-round, though. "If you'd just done what I told you and stayed at my place--"

"One," Toby ticked points off on his fingers, "I'm not really good at taking orders, and two, there was a really important document I'd forgotten. How could I know a mob hit was going to happen?"

"The limo pulling up and gunfire erupting as Mr. Rich stepped out of the casino was a really strong clue."

Toby huffed. "Yes, well, I did duck, May I remind you," he placed a hand against Chris' shoulder, where the bullet had ripped through him, "you're the one who got shot?"

"My memories pretty clear on that, actually." Especially the part where Toby was kneeling over him, shielding him, trying to stop the bleeding. "I liked the flowers you sent."

Making another face, looking a little embarrassed, Toby said, "I wanted to come visit. Agent Taylor and my father wouldn't let me."

"Yeah," Chris nodded, catching hold of Toby's hand, turning it palm up to stroke it, liking the way the caress made Toby squirm and breathe a little harder. "Things got a little crazy for awhile."

"And now?"

Chris slid his other hand around to cup the nape of Toby's neck, fingers tangling in the curls there. "This feels like the sanest thing I've ever done," he whispered, head tilting as he leaned in closer. "I gotta kiss you, Toby."

"Wait," Toby said, stopping him, holding him by the shoulders.

Chris froze. "I thought--" It was all he'd thought about for weeks.

Toby eased back, holding up one finger. He reached up to take off his glasses and tuck them away in a breast pocket. "Okay."

Lips twitching with a smile, Chris looked at him sitting there in the soft glow of the lamplight, autumn leaves falling all around them. "Ready now?"

"Sure."

"Don't want to take a breath min--"

Toby reached out, hands snagging hold of his head and drawing Chris in to shut him up with a kiss.

All the time Chris had spent around casinos, he'd never once placed a bet of his own. Risk what he had, what was known, on a million to one shot - and probably just get kicked in the teeth? No prize had ever been worth it. Not until now; with Toby in his arms, Toby's lips warm and yielding, the dart of a tongue against his promising the richest jackpot ever, Chris knew he'd put everything he had on the line to take a chance at this.

High stakes, and there was always the chance of a losing hand … but maybe, just maybe, luck was being generous this time.

~end~


End file.
